All this heartache, all the tears, and the hurting. All the feelings of not being good enough, wondering if I deserve what I have, all because he didn’t tell me something was wrong.
“I’ve been so upset about you not being a good friend that I’ve been an even worse friend. I don’t expect you to forgive me yet, but I want to earn it. I know that’ll take time, and I have an idea of how we can work through it.”
Stay freaking calm.“They’re words, Aaron. They don’t mean anything.”
“There’s this therapist here in LA called Dr. Robeska. She specializes in couples but not in a romantic way,” he clarifies quickly, “people like us—pairs and teammates. My mom said she will pay for it after I told her what I’d done. Mom said this could be a fresh start for us all.”
Brady nods enthusiastically, which irritates me since she was the one Aaron was bitching to about me for who knows how long. “Good communication is key when it comes to partnership. You two have had a very rocky few months, and if this pairing is going to continue, we need to get you back on track.”
He knows exactly what he is doing, which is what irritates me the most. Knowing he’s hitting me somewhere I won’t be able to refuse. I’ve been praising the effectiveness of therapy the entire time I’ve known him, mainly to make him go and work out his issues. Even after everything that has happened, he’s trying to manipulate me into doing something.
“Sabrina said you’ve been cleared to skate again. Is that true?”
He’s nodding before I even finish my sentence, holding up his bad arm, flexing it around to demonstrate he has the movement he lost back. “Full bill of health from the doctor. I’m ready to go when you are…So, therapy?”
“I’m going to have to think about it, Aaron. It’s a huge commitment to make, and you’ve hurt me. You’ve really hurt the people around me, people who I love.”
“You loved me once too,” he says flatly. “And I love you, as a friend, obviously.”
“I think our time would be better spent getting ready for nationals. I’m not sure how I’m expected to want to be your friend again, but we can have a professional partnership.”
“If I could take it all back, I would in a heartbeat, Stassie. But I can’t, and I still want that friendship with you, as well as the partnership, but I need to earn your forgiveness in the right way.” He takes a big, dramatic intake of breath. “By proving I’m better than I was when I was that man. I’ll give you time to think about therapy. I hope you make the right choice. I really am sorry, and I’ll say sorry as many times as you need me to.”
Brady gives us both a speech about sportsmanship, and by the time I’m leaving the office, I’m tired and irritated, cursing the day I decided to give pairs a chance. I feel swamped by other people’s issues and emotions, which is hard, since I have such big emotions myself.
I’m not perfect. I am so far from perfect it’s laughable, but I try my best to be a good friend. So to be told this whole mess is because I’ve supposedly failed Aaron as a friend is hard to swallow.
Logically, I know it isn’t true, but Aaron was never going to sit there and admit he didn’t even try to talk to me about it. Emotionally, I’m questioning if there’s more I could have done. And now I’m annoyed at myself because that’s what he wants, and I’m falling for it.
This is the problem with people. Nothing is straightforward; everyone has good and bad. Look at people like Nate’s dad; is he the father Nate and Sasha need? No. But is he an evil person? Also no. It’s the same with Aaron. I wouldn’t be this upset and conflicted over someone that is a totally bad person.
This is where Nate and I differ because he only looks at the good and the bad. He doesn’t pay attention to the murky, questionable gray area between those two points. And what I’ve now learned is when Nate is bothered by something, it comes out as frustration.
Nathan is waiting with a gorgeous bunch of peonies when I arrive back at the house, and I can’t even pretend to be happy about it. He holds the bouquet out to me. “How did it go?”
“I don’t have the energy to cope when I tell you and you make me feel shitty. Can I tell you tomorrow when I’ve processed it? I need a drink. I think I’m going to go out with Sabrina.”
The surprise flickers across his face quickly, and he leans to kiss my temple. “I deserve that. Yeah, uh, take the time you need. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
* * *
I thinkI might be dying.
There’s a mane of soft, chestnut brown hair covering my face when I reluctantly peel open my eyes. It smells like fresh oranges, and despite the fact I love oranges, the idea of eating an orange right now makes bile rise in my throat.
I’m wrapped around a tiny frame of sequins and golden-brown skin, and I’m incredibly and headache inducingly confused about where I am, because it’s not with Nathan, that’s for sure.
Rolling onto my back, unraveling myself from whom I hope is Sabrina, I take in the room around me. Part of me worries for a second that we are at the apartment, but this room is far too tidy to belong to either of us.
A deep snore from the bed has me sitting up, then stopping to cover my mouth when the movement knocks me sick. The sight of Robbie’s sleeping face only adds to my confusion, but my alcohol-soaked brain deduces that I’m in Robbie’s bed, weirdly, with Sabrina and Robbie.
I don’t remember getting home last night. Well, I only remember very blurry bits that aren’t helping me right now.
After my shitty day, I could feel the stress and tension leaving my body a few shots in; a few more shots in is when it started to get blurry. Every move I make is making my body physically throb in the worst way, and as much as I want to go upstairs and crawl into bed beside my own boyfriend, I don’t think I have the strength or coordination to make that happen.
Reaching for my phone, I say a tiny prayer that Nate is awake.